


Dreams Do Come True... Eventually

by EstelUndomiel (capn_cecil_ang)



Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angsty Dean, Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sleep, Spooning, interrupting moose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capn_cecil_ang/pseuds/EstelUndomiel
Summary: Only after Dean loses what he took for granted for so long, he realizes what he's missing.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679482
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	Dreams Do Come True... Eventually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AryaFT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaFT/gifts).



> When AryaFT finished the first one-shot she said, and I quote: "I kinda want them to get together." So hon, after long ass time, here is the promised sequel. Enjoy the last days of your quarantine! ;)
> 
> Direct sequel to [What the Dreams are Made of](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295125)
> 
> I am choosing to ignore the whole 'Mark of Cain' shit. I believe it's supposed to be around here in the story, but I just can't deal with this right now. Take this as an universe alternated fic if you want, I just want to add a little more fluff into that grim world of Supernatural. 
> 
> T rating is mostly because of couple of swearwords.

Those few weeks of Dean and Castiel sharing the bed together were, well, the best night’s sleep Dean ever had. He’s not only got more than his usual three or four hours of sleep, but he was waking up rested. And, to his brother’s immense surprise, usually in a rather good mood too. 

Granted, there were few things that Dean somewhat regretted. First, some days he woke up and found out he was sporting pretty decent morning wood. Castiel, thank God, was always already up and mingling in the bathroom. The first time it happened, Dean pulled the covers up to his chin and refused to get up until Castiel left the room. No matter that the room was Castiel’s. Both of them dealt with it like real men, of course. By ignoring the situation altogether and not mentioning it again. 

But there was one other thing that bothered Dean, even more than his dick having his own mind. It was the fact that every morning, Castiel was up before him. Every morning, when Dean woke up, Castiel was long gone, his side of bed rumpled and empty. The only proof he even slept there was the heat of his body still clinging to the sheets. Not that Dean would feel the need to wake up to see Castiel asleep by his side. But it would be nice to wake up to someone from time to time. Even though that someone was his long-time friend and a former angel. And a dude for that matter.

But this whole fragile arrangement of theirs shattered one morning. The only morning when Dean woke up first. 

The day before was exhausting for them both. Dean and Sam went to a regular ghost hunt, that in any other case, would be an easy gig. But Castiel insisted he wants to go too, saying something about feeling useless. They had a petty argument about it, but Dean caved in the end, letting Castiel go. Six hands were better than four, he thought then. Well, he didn’t count on the fact that Castiel never hunted a ghost. After almost an hour of playing mouse and cat, and quite a few scratches and wounds later, they sent the spirit back to where it belonged. As they made their way back to the bunker, Dean wanted nothing more than to take a shower and go to bed right away. He took a quick shower and sprawled on his bed, ready to sleep. He was sure he’ll fall asleep right away. After all, he was exhausted. But no matter how much time has passed, Dean couldn’t break the barrier between his world and the dream world. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed and jumped out of his bed. He made it out of his room and towards the next door without thinking. It was only when he was almost knocking on Castiel’s door, he stopped to think. 

He was taking their nights for granted, always expecting they’ll spend the night together. But what if Cas wanted to be alone tonight? They never agreed that they’d spent every single night together. Nor did they decided on how to tell the other they want to sleep alone. But, Dean had to admit, it wasn’t about helping Cas anymore. Dean needed Cas beside him, maybe even more than Cas needed Dean. He couldn’t even imagine falling asleep without spooning Castiel anymore. But one thing in their arrangement was sure. It was Cas who was supposed to need comfort. _So_ , Dean thought, _it should be Cas who says when and where they should sleep together_. 

Letting out a sigh Dean turned around, resigning to toss and turn in his bed the whole night. But then he heard a quiet creak of the door and a soft “Dean?”

He turned back and saw Castiel’s disheveled head poking out of the doorway. 

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean grinned, trying to hide away the awkwardness. “I uh, just wanted to check on you. You know, after today.”

The ghost they faced today was a vicious one. And Castiel, being a newbie in the world of hunting, earned a few rookie wounds.

“I’m... ok,” Castiel said. “Are you?”

“Me?” Dean huffed out, “Sure. I mean, I’m a seasoned hunter. One little ghost won’t get the best of me.”

“Right,” Castiel nodded. His hand reached up, touching a light slash wound on his neck.

_Shit_ , Dean thought. “Look, I... I didn’t mean that you’re not-”

“That’s ok, Dean,” Castiel shook his head and stared at Dean for a moment with his tired eyes. “Do you want to come over?” he asked, making it sound like a chore. The tone of his voice felt like an invisible knife stabbing Dean’s heart. He didn’t need him, yet he’s offering. Dean wanted to say no. If Cas didn’t need him, he as sure didn’t need Cas. But Dean knew that wasn’t true. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here right now.

“If you want me to,” Dean said, careful to pick the right words. Castiel didn’t say anything to it, but disappeared into his room, leaving the door ajar. 

_Right_ , Dean thought. _No mixed signals, right?_ Dean cursed in his mind and walked into Castiel’s room.

When they spooned that night, it was different. Castiel was stiff and refused to relax. And Dean suspected his eyes were not even closed. _It's weird_ , Dean thought. _It’s like spooning a plank of wood_. One moment he almost said something, suggested they could talk about it, but then he changed his mind. He felt weird already. He didn’t need to add a pillow talk into his list of uncomfortable situations he was in. 

Sometime during the night, Dean finally fell asleep, drifting into semi restless sleep. And when the morning came, he jerked awake from an unpleasant dream.

Dean found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His breath was quick, and he felt the droplets of sweat on the back of his neck. He laid in the bed for a while, trying to calm his breath. It wasn’t until something moved next to him that he realized something was not right. Looking to the side he noticed Castiel, still sleeping, right next to him. He must have rolled to the other side during the night and was now facing Dean, his eyes closed, and face muscles tightened.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, acting on instinct. Castiel mumbled something Dean didn’t understand, and his eyebrows furrowed. His fists clenched, burrowing into the sheets. _He must be having a nightmare._ Dean thought and rolled on his side to better face the former angel. Reaching towards Castiel’s temple he touched his hair lightly. Castiel stirred but didn’t wake up. Dean felt his breath quickening again, as he realized he was only inches away from Castiel. Licking his lips he finished the move, stroking Castiel’s hair. It took a while, but Castiel’s features relaxed, and his fists loosened. He started to breathe more evenly, and Dean started to get lost in the monotonous action of stroking Castiel’s hair. Castiel’s lips parted as he breathed out a raspy sigh, and Dean’s eyes caught the motion. Then they slid further down, to the bright red slash on Castiel’s neck. Dean’s hand moved from Castiel’s hair to his neck, ghosting around the wound. _Fuck_ , Dean thought. _What was I thinking, agreeing to take Cas for the hunt? He is human now, fragile. He could have been..._ Dean closed his eyes for a moment, fighting away the thoughts. No, he was not going down that road... not again. 

Dean opened his eyes again, looking at sleeping Castiel in front of him. His hand moved to Castiel’s jaw like it had a life of its own. As he stroked Castiel’s stubble, he licked his own lips again. And suddenly, a picture of him kissing Castiel flashed in his mind. _What the hell?_ Dean thought, jerking away slightly. _Why am I thinking of kissing Cas?_ He chastised himself but quickly had to admit, it was not the first time this thought came across his mind. Mostly because Castiel had no regard for personal space. And it was hard not to glance there from time to time when he stood only inches away from Dean. _But it’s not just that, is it?_ Dean's mind persisted. _There’s something else between you - a more profound bond, as Cas calls it._ Dean didn’t know what it was exactly, but it felt nice. It felt warm and cozy. And this; just lying here with Cas by his side felt like something Dean could get used to every morning. 

Dean couldn’t fight off the smile as his hand returned to stroke Castiel’s jaw. He licked his lips again, glancing at Castiel’s. _One kiss_ , he thought. _I just want to know how it’d feel._

But then there was that tension in Castiel’s face again. And when Dean looked up, he saw Castiel’s eyes, wide and awake, looking at him.

Dean jerked away from Castiel, clearing his throat. 

“Uhm, hey, uh, Cas. Morning,” he said, not sure what else was there to say. Sure, one could ignore Dean’s constant morning woods by never mentioning them. But could one pass in silence the fact that Dean almost kissed Castiel when the guy was still sleeping? _Well, there’s just one way to find out_ , Dean thought. He sent Castiel his trademark cheeky grin and said, collected: “You slept in today. It’s not like you to let me wake up sooner than you, buddy.”

Castiel’s eyes were staring at him with silent judgment, still startled. 

“So,” Dean started, looking around the room, “guess I’ll go to my room then. See you ‘round?” 

He turned his back to Castiel and rolled his eyes on himself as he got out of bed. _Real smooth, Dean_ , he thought as he was leaving the room and bewildered Castiel behind.

******

That night Dean laid in his bed, thinking whether he should go to Castiel’s room or not. If he didn’t go, he would admit that what happened in the morning was weird and awkward. But if he’d go, it _would be_ weird and awkward.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean sighed and threw a pillow over his face. Almost immediately, a soft knock sounded at his door. Dean pulled the pillow away and shouted: “Come in.” 

The door opened slightly, and the ruffled dark mane peaked out from the door frame. Dean’s breath hitched. _Shit_ , he thought. _I’m not ready for this._

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, tentatively walking into Dean’s bedroom.

Dean rolled his eyes and sat on the side of the bed, his legs hanging. “Cas, we’ve seen each other at least six times today. You don’t have to ‘Hello, Dean’ me every time you don’t see me for more than half an hour.”

Castiel’s eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to... you know what, nevermind,” he waved him off. “What brings you into my lair?”

Castiel’s eyes shot to him, and he furrowed his brows. Dean shook his head, annoyed at the former angel’s lack of comprehensiveness.

Castiel, still standing in the doorway, shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. His eyes fell somewhere on Dean’s shoulder, looking at him, but not quite meeting his gaze. It was Dean’s turn to furrow his brows because the gesture was so unlike Castiel he knew. He was way too human now. 

“So... what’s up, Cas?” Dean said, trying for an easy-going tone.

“I wanted to talk to you, Dean. About our... arrangement.” Castiel said.

_Ok, it’s ok_ , Dean repeated in his mind. _It’s gonna be awkward, but it’s gonna be ok._ He licked his lips and said: “What about it?” 

Castiel took a deep breath. “I came to the realization that I feel better now. I sleep better. And I was thinking... if you feel better too... we could, you know, stop... spending the nights together.”

“Gee, Cas, you make it sound so dirty.” Dean laughed it off, trying to hide the fact that he felt like Castiel just punched him in the gut. 

Castiel met his eyes, his gaze questioning. Dean had to take a moment to compose himself and to keep up his bravado. For the sake of the situation and his sanity. “Well, I’m, uh, glad I helped you get through the worst, Cas,” he said with a small half-grin.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, his voice insisting. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean waved him off. “I’m peachy. In fact, I, too, am sleeping better. So yeah. We can end the uh, our arrangement if you’d like to. And we’ll sleep in our rooms, separately. Tonight and every other night from now own. In our own beds. Alone.”

Castiel stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing. After a while, he nodded meaningfully and said, almost whispering: “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas,” Dean said towards Castiel’s back before he disappeared in the hallway.

Then he flopped back on his bed and listened as Castiel’s steps receded. _Great_ , Dean thought. _Congratulations on screwing up the only good thing you had going lately, Dean._

It’s not like it mattered how Dean felt anyway. Cas was better, and that was important to Dean. It didn’t matter that he was still afraid to close his eyes, fearful of the horrors that sure would follow. And it didn’t matter that for Dean it stopped being just about the nightmares a long time ago. He knew Castiel was in it only for the short run. Dean was hoping he’ll have it going at least until Castiel will get his mojo back. But he couldn’t blame the guy for ending it sooner. After all, who’d want to go to sleep afraid that your so-called friend might attack-kiss you during the night? 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed and turned on his belly to burrow his face in the pillow again. _Why you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, you stupid, stupid son of a bitch?_ He chastised himself. _Now your temporary lapse in logic cost you..._ he stopped. What did it cost him exactly? A good night's sleep? A friend? _Oh well, maybe it’s better this way_ , Dean thought. _At least I don’t have to worry, I'd do something else I might regret later._

******

Dean jolts up, cold sweat trickling down his spine, his breath quick and heavy. It takes him a minute to compose himself, to realize he’s not in the woods again, hunted by the monsters that want to kill him. His hand reaches towards the other side of the bed, looking for comfort. But all he finds is a cold spot. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he whispers under his breath and runs a hand across his face. He shots a glance towards the watch. It’s something after four. 

“Seems about right,” he huffs a broken laugh.

Dean groans and moves to get out of the bed. He knows his body, and he knows this is the most sleep he’s getting tonight. It’s not like he’s not used to less, so that’s ok, he tries to persuade himself. Although, it’s hard to get back to the old routine when you had something better for a while. Dean shakes off his thoughts and gets up from the bed. _It’s time for a beer_ , he decides. _After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere_.

The hallway is dark, and Dean makes his way towards the kitchen by the memory. He stumbles towards the fridge and pulls out a cold one. Opening the cap he gulps it down in one swig. The coldness that spreads through him relaxes him a bit. Putting the empty bottle on the counter, he decides one more wouldn’t hurt him. 

Dean opens the fridge, takes out another bottle. Then he wobbles out of the kitchen, intending to go back to his room, take a shower, and start a day with some old-fashioned research. But as Dean gets out of the kitchen, he notices a light coming out of the living room. He sighs and follows it. 

“I swear, if he forgets to turn off the lights one more time,” Dean mutters under his breath. His brother can be really forgetful sometimes.

But when Dean reaches the common room, his steps falter. The room's not empty as he was expecting it to be. Castiel is sitting on the couch in the far end of the room, dressed in his new suit and trench-coat. He’s immersed in the book, a small lamp above his left shoulder, creating a faint halo over his head. Corners of Dean’s mouth quiver and a warm feeling spreads inside of him. Then Castiel’s head shots up, and the big soul searching eyes land on him. Castiel seems to relax for a second, but then stiffens, his eyes sharp and awaiting.

“Dean?” he says.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiles and makes a few steps forward until he’s in the middle of the room. Then he hesitates because he realizes one thing. It’s the first time since Castiel got his grace back, that they are alone in one room. Until now, Dean was lucky enough to avoid the once again-angel altogether. And if he wasn’t, there was always Sam present, ready to break the tension between them. Sam, who was chatting away about some creature, oblivious to the fact that none of them was listening to him. Or Sam, who engaged Castiel in deep conversation, leaving Dean to brood in the corner, sending sheepish glances towards the angel. It’s not like Dean would be angry with Castiel. But somehow, he didn’t know what to say to the other man. Their relationship changed since they broke off their sleeping agreement. They started to circle around each other like a dog and cat, watching each other’s moves with precision, evaluating every word. And it became even worse after Castiel became an angel again. Dean felt a certain distance, coldness from Castiel, and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was bugging him. It felt like something was missing. Like that connection that once bonded them was lost. And Dean never thought he would miss it so much, but he did. 

So now, Dean was standing alone in one room with Castiel, at four in the morning. The probability of Sam bursting in with important information, saving him from the awkward conversation, was close to zero. 

Dean thinks about his options for a moment. He’d love to just leave. But that would completely shatter whatever was still holding their fragile friendship together. And it would send off a terrible message, Dean thinks. So he shrugs and makes a few steps forward, stopping a few feet from Castiel at the end of the long table. He clears his throat and tries to lean in against the table casually, but it comes off more as awkward. And Castiel watching his every move is definitely not helping Dean not to feel uncomfortable. 

“So,” he says, when he finally settles against the table, his demeanor casual. “What’cha doing here so late?”

Castiel gives him a weird look and closes the book he’s reading. “You know I can’t sleep anymore, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean says, cursing his still sleepy brain to not connect the dots. “So, by can’t you mean, you physically can’t fall asleep or you just, you know, don’t need to sleep to gather energy?”

Castiel sighs and does something that very closely resembles rolling his eyes. Dean wonders if that’s something he picked up as a human, or if it was always there, he only never noticed it. 

“We,” Castiel starts and turns on the couch to face Dean better. “We angels do not need to sleep, but we can put ourselves into a deep meditation that would resemble sleep to you. But we do not require to do that to sustain our energy.”

“Right,” Dean nods. “So, you’re reading?”

Castiel glances at the book on the table. It’s the history of Men of Letters. “It’s not like I can go anywhere I please anymore, so,” he shrugs.

Dean frowns and wonders again if he ever saw Castiel shrug before.

“Right,” Dean says. “It’s 'cause your wings are broken.” 

Castiel sends him a glare that Dean interprets as ‘thank you, for stating the obvious’ and he feels the heat coming up to his cheeks. It might be Dean’s imagination, but he thinks Castiel’s brief experience of humanity left him a bit more human-like. And he’s not sure if he likes it. 

“How do they... you know... look like?” Dean asks.

Castiel averts his eyes from him. “You don’t want to see them.” 

Dean feels a sharp pain at his heart, his stomach clenching. There were times when Castiel was willing to show his wings to him. Hell, even comfort him with them. And now he can’t even look him in the eyes when he talks about them. 

“Look, Cas, if there’s something I can do.”

“There’s not,” Castiel’s tone is sharp, and Dean shuts up immediately. He sighs and turns his attention to his beer bottle, just to do something with his hands. But of course, he’s unable to do it, twisting and turning the beer cap, not able to open it.

“Do you need help?” Castiel asks, and when Dean looks up, he sees Castiel looking at him, questioning.

“I can open a beer bottle,” Dean says, but his words are failing his actions.

Castiel cocks his eyebrows and raises his hand, making a turning motion. The beer cap turns with a slight hiss, and it stays in Dean’s palm. Dean glares at Castiel for a moment, then murmurs a weak “thanks.” Castiel only nods and returns his look to the book on the table.

Dean knows he should leave, he feels Castiel doesn’t want him here, but he doesn’t know how to excuse himself. _Should I get up and go? That feels... rude_ , he thinks. His trail of thoughts is interrupted when he hears Castiel’s voice speaking again: “Why are you up anyway? You didn’t have a nightmare, did you?”

“Nah,” Dean waves him off, taking a swig of his beer. “Nothing like that. Just don’t feel like sleeping anymore.”

Castiel nods again, and Dean says before he can think about it. “It’s not like you could do anything about it, could you, with those broken wings of yours?”

_What the hell?_ Dean chastises himself immediately, his eyes going wide. _Why did I say that?_

“No,” Castiel says, averting his eyes away. “Of course not.”

“Cas, I’m—”

“Don’t,” Castiel says and stands up. “I will go now.”

“Right,” Dean nods and thinks about anything else to say.

Castiel gives Dean one last look before he turns and walks away into the depths of the bunker. Dean stays in the common room for a while, in case Castiel aims for his bedroom. He doesn’t want to meet him again, not after he so colossally screwed up right now.

******

A few days later, Castiel is sitting behind the wheel of one of the cars from bunker’s garage, Dean at passenger’s seat. Sam is outside, leaning against the hood of Impala, grinning at them and giving Castiel thumbs up. They’ve been at the parking lot behind a closed-off shopping mall for about half an hour now, teaching Castiel to drive. So far, they’ve been through the theoretical stuff, and Castiel managed to actually move the car a few times. Sam also suggested to teach him to back up, but Dean put a stop to it the moment Castiel almost hit the Impala. 

They found a small elevation instead, and Castiel was trying to set the car in motion when it’s uphill. They were at it for at least ten minutes, and Castiel isn’t any closer to getting it right. He is growing frustrated with both the mechanics of the car and Dean. From his tone of voice, he figures Dean is on the verge of yelling at him too. Sam tries to shout something useful now and then. But mostly he’s trying to calm Dean down and encourage Castiel not to give up. Castiel feels the heat of the sun on his skin through the open window, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

_I can do it_ , he thinks. _I’m the angel of the Lord. I can move a frigging car uphill._ He turns the key in the ignition again, one foot on the break, the other on the clutch. He disengages the clutch, just like Dean told him to. Then when he feels the car wants to move, he starts to let go of the breaks and the clutch at the same time. The vehicle begins to move back a bit, and Castiel quickly steps on the speed pedal. The car jerks and the engine dies. Again. 

Dean throws his head backward, sighing deeply. “Alright,” he says, his voice strained. “There’s an easier way to go about this.”

Dean pulls the hand-break and turns to Castiel. “Step on the clutch, put the other foot on the speed pedal. Turn on the engine and change to first gear. Then slowly put down the hand-break as you disengage the clutch and step on the speed pedal.”

Castiel moves his feet into the position Dean told him to. He isn’t comprehending how this is easier, but he does it anyway.

The car starts, the gear is in the first position. Castiel has one foot on the clutch, the other over the speed pedal, his hand is on the hand brake. _I can do it_ , Castiel thinks. _The hill isn’t even that steep._ A car won’t win over me.

He makes all the necessary motions, and the car moves a few inches. Castiel’s heart jumps in joy. And then the car jerks again and stops.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Dean yells, throwing his hands in the air. “Are you a complete moron? You fucking vaporized half of the Heaven, and you can’t move a stupid car, Cas?”

Castiel’s knuckles turn white from the grip he has on the steering wheel. He feels his blood boiling in him, and through gritted teeth, he growls: “I may not be able to fly anymore, Dean. But that does not mean I cannot still smite your freckled ass.”

Dean blinks a few times and opens his mouth to say something, but the words don’t seem to come out. He closes his mouth again, looking a bit like a fish out of water. Castiel would find it funny. If he wasn’t irritated, tired, and disillusioned from his lack of abilities.

“You know what,” Dean shakes his head. “I’ve had enough.” He opens the door to the passenger’s side and steps out of the car without closing the door. “SAM,” he yells at his brother, who is cackling few feet from them, “take over. I need a break.”

Sam calms himself down enough to step away from the Impala before Dean gets inside and drives off. He watches his brother leave, thorn between finding the whole situation amusing and feeling bad for both Dean and Castiel. Teaching someone to drive could be a tiresome job, and learning to drive likewise. 

Sam walks to the other car and gets in, sitting on the passenger’s side. 

Castiel sits hunched in the driver’s seat, his forehead placed on the wheel. 

“It’s useless,” he murmurs when Sam gets in the car. 

“It’s ok, Cas. Learning to drive doesn’t come easy to everyone.”

“Dean is right,” Castiel says as he straightens up, keeping his eyes fixed on the windscreen. “I am an angel. I should be able to learn to drive a damn car. Instead, I am...” he looks down at his hands, examining them like he's never seen them before. “I’m completely useless,” he sighs.

Sam shakes his head. “Cas, we’ve been over this, many times. You’re not useful to us only when you have powers. I know it sucks, not having wings. But it doesn’t make you any less important to us.”

Castiel looks at him, doubt written in his eyes. “I don’t think Dean feels the same.”

Sam sighs. “Look, Dean can be... difficult. You know it as much as I do. And he’s short-tempered. And he doesn’t like to show how he feels. But he cares about you, Cas. You two have a more profound bond, remember?”

Castiel feels the heat creeping up to his face as he looks away from Sam.

“It’s how family works, Cas. Sometimes they yell at you, sometimes you fight. But that doesn’t mean they don’t love you. If anything, it means they love you even more. Cause they care enough to fight with you.”

Castiel is silent, staring at the birds chirping on the nearby tree. 

“Alright,” Sam says, “come on out. It’s time for more theory.”

Sam steps out of the car, and Castiel follows him. Sam opens up the hood and secures it with a hood prop rod. “Alright. I’m going to show you parts of the engine. Dean thought me a thing or two about cars so, I’m gonna pass it upon you now,” Sam says towards Castiel and smiles. Castiel stands next to him, his eyes flicking from Sam to the car engine as Sam talks.

“Dean would probably explain this better, but... he’s not here, is he?”

Sam hunches over the car engine, prepared to show Castiel bits and pieces of what makes the car moving. He’s about to start explaining when Castiel says. “I’m sorry.”

Sam’s eyes shot towards Castiel. “Don’t do that.” he shakes his head. “It’s not your fault Dean is so hot-headed.” Sam returns his attention towards the car, but before he starts explaining anything, he mumbles under his breath. “I swear, it’s like a clockwork.”

“What is?” Castiel asks, his brows furrowed. 

Sam glances over his shoulder at the angel and meets his searching eyes. He sighs and straightens up, better facing Castiel. “You two,” he says. “It’s a repeating circle with you. First, everything is ok. You act like best friends, banter and joke around. Then something happens, whatever it is. And you two are tip-toeing around each other, hardly looking at one another. Dean usually acts angsty as hell, and you... well, you act guilty. It’s awkward for a while, and you think I don’t notice, but I do. And then, after a while, Dean cools off, and you find a way to each other again. Rinse and repeat.”

He searches Castiel’s eyes for a while, the angel resisting his gaze. Then Sam shrugs and returns to bent over the car. “But there is something different this time, I must give you that.”

The silence that follows could fill a heart-beat. Then Castiel says, almost whispering: “We’ve slept together.”

“WHAT?” Sam exclaims, straightening up, banging his head against the hood. He turns to Castiel, scratching the pulsing spot on his head.

“I didn’t mean sex,” Castiel says, unfazed. But then his whole demeanor changes. He shoves his hands into his pockets, his eyes lowering to look at the engine rather than Sam. He bits his lower lip a bit, seemingly not sure how to continue. Then he starts: “We have, I think the proper word that Dean would use would be ‘spooned’. Dean, he... used to have terrible nightmares. And... well, when I was human, I experienced them too. We found out that sleeping close to each other is... bringing us comfort.”

Sam stares at Castiel, his mouth ajar. When he realizes how ridiculous he must look, he shakes his head in disbelief, closing his mouth. There are so many questions he has, but there is one he feels he needs to ask first.

“Cas?” he starts, “Why did you stop?”

Castiel turns his face away as if trying to avoid Sam’s gaze. “You humans feel things... differently. Much stronger than angels. And I... started to feel things. Things I was afraid of.”

“What things, Cas?”

“It does not matter. Dean would never.... he does not reciprocate my feelings. And... that is ok.” Castiel stops, falling silent for a while. Then he takes a deep breath and looks back at Sam. “I am an angel of the Lord. I do not need to... I have more important things to care about.”

“Cas, how do you—?” Sam starts.

“I wish not to talk about it anymore, Sam.” Castiel interrupts him. Then he looks back at the car and says. “Maybe it is time to head back. We have been here long enough.”

********

Sam and Castiel come back to the bunker in the afternoon, noticing Impala still isn’t there. Sam shakes his head and sighs. _Dean must be somewhere drinking. Because that’s the only way he can deal with his feelings_ , Sam thinks. _Or better said, not deal with them._

They park the car in the garage and step out. Castiel seems to be a bit indecisive of what to do next. He's shifting from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the hem of his trenchcoat. It is so weird seeing the angel so nervous.

“You alright?” Sam asks, frowning.

Castiel's eyes shot to him, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights. “Yes,” he says a little too quickly, nodding eagerly to emphasize it. “I just,” he starts, then sighs. “Look, Sam. I would appreciate it if you would not talk about what we discussed earlier, with Dean.”

“Of course,” Sam says. “But,” he clears his throat, hoping to get his intentions as clear as possible. “I really think you should talk to him. You might be surprised by his reaction. Yes, he is a stubborn ass. But he cares about you, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes sadden. “That won’t be necessary.”

Sam frowns and opens his mouth to ask what Castiel means by that. But Castiel turns and disappears up the stairs, leaving Sam standing in the garage, dumbfounded.

*******

The clock is showing almost midnight, and Sam yawns widely and stretches over the book he's reading. He rubs his eyes and fishes out his cellphone. Dean still hasn’t called back. Sam left him at least ten messages since the afternoon. He tried to imply, very subtly, that he should come back and talk to Cas. But of course, his brother ignores him, as usual when it comes to any confrontation. _Well, screw it_ , Sam thinks and puts away his phone. He closes the book and stands to make his way towards his room. He plans to make one last call to Dean before he turns in for the night. 

When he walks into his room though, cell phone already in his hand, his attention is drawn to the small white piece of paper lying on his pillow.

“What the—?” he whispers, scanning the room for any immediate danger.

*******

Dean grumbles under his breath as he makes his way towards his room in the bunker. He spent the last half an hour sitting in Impala, listening to Sam’s voice mails. Before that, he spent a few hours drinking in the nearby bar, but it didn’t last him long. No amount of alcohol could help him escape from the intruding thoughts about the blue-eyed angel. So after a few beers, he took away and drove for hours on end, trying to clear his head. But no matter what he did, Castiel still kept creeping back on his mind. The way it felt falling asleep with Castiel in his arms, at his most vulnerable, completely trusting him with his life. Nothing could beat that. _Well_ , Dean thinks. _Maybe just... waking up to see Castiel lying next to me, still soundly asleep._ _But what was I expecting? Castiel is the angel of the lord. He wouldn’t fell for a pathetic piece of an excuse of a human I am._

So Dean does what he does best. He wallows in his misery for a few hours before he decides enough time passed. It's late enough for him to safely go back to the bunker without the danger of meeting Castiel or Sam.

Dean walks past Castiel’s room in the hallway and momentarily stops. He can hear Sam’s voice in his head, telling him to go talk to the angel. But what did talking ever resolve? Dean shakes his head, pushing Sam’s voice to the back, and proceeds to his room. When he opens the door, he stops in his tracks. 

There is Castiel, standing over his bed, slightly bent. When Dean opens the door, Castiel straightens and gives Dean a wide-eyed look. He swallows hard and breathes out Dean's name.

“Cas?” Dean cocks his eyebrow at the angel, a trail of thoughts rushing to his head. But then his eyes lay on his bed, and he notices a small white paper folded on his pillow. 

Dean’s expression hardens immediately. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Castiel says, shaking his head.

“See what?” Dean snaps, slamming the door behind him as he steps towards Castiel. “I wasn’t supposed to see you leave? That’s what I wasn’t supposed to see? So you were just gonna bail on us... on me? Without a word?”

Castiel makes few steps away from the bed and from Dean, looking almost fearful. If Dean wasn’t so angry right now, he would find the whole situation funny. Castiel could slam him against the wall anytime he wanted. Yet the almighty angel of the Lord was covering under Dean’s wrath.

“I,” Castiel stutters, “I explained everything... in there,” he gestures towards the piece of paper on Dean’s bed.

“A fucking letter,” Dean huffs and stomps towards the bed, taking the letter. He scans it hastily, then looks back at Castiel. “So what? This feels like enough for you?” he says, making few steps towards the angel. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re going to write a few hearty words and leave? Where would you even go, Cas? You can’t fly anymore. You can’t return to Heaven.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Castiel says, a wave of newfound anger in his voice. “You keep reminding me of that, every time you talk to me, Dean. I know I am useless. I know I... I know I mean nothing to you now. That’s why I’m leaving.”

“How can you say that?” Dean says, tightening his fists. “How can you even think that, Cas? Look me in the eyes and tell me I don’t... I don’t care about you,” Dean hates the fact that his voice cracks at the end of the sentence, but it is what it is. 

Castiel meets his eyes, swallowing hard. “How could you?” he asks, the same pain in his voice as Dean feels. “When I look like this?” 

A bulb flickers, and when Dean blinks, two enormous black shadows of wings appear behind Castiel. But they are not what they used to be. They are not what Dean remembers, or pictures when he thinks about them. They are broken. There are only a few feathers now and there, hanging loosely at the bone, almost threatening to fall away. Dean stares at them in unhidden awe, because even broken and shattered, they are still Cas’ wings. Something that brought Dean comfort so many times. Dean can’t know how he looks, but there must be something in his expression that makes Castiel prove his point. Because when Dean blinks again, Castiel’s wings are tucked away, without everpresent fluff of air. And Castiel's gaze is adverted from Dean. 

“I will go now. It will be better this way,” he says, moving towards Dean and the door. 

Dean is still in shock from seeing Castiel's wings. _How could anyone be so cruel and do something so horrible to Cas?_ He thinks. 

So he doesn’t quite register Castiel moving until he is already at the door.

“Goodbye, Dean,” Castiel whispers, and that’s what snaps Dean back to reality. 

“Wait,” he exclaims, rushing to the door. Castiel is already opening them, and Dean slams them back and stands between the door and Castiel. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, a little frustrated. And a thought comes back to Dean, that if Castiel wanted to, he could throw him against the bed and leave. And yet, he doesn’t.

“Once you've told me, you can feel what I feel,” Dean says, a sudden epiphany forming in his mind. “Can you not tell... how I feel?”

Castiel turns away, refusing to face Dean. There is a long drawn out pause before he speaks again. “I can’t anymore. I... shut myself out from you.”

Dean frowns, risking to inch away from the door a bit. “I thought you can’t do that.”

Castiel sighs, his shoulders slumping as he speaks again, his eyes fixed on Dean’s bed. “It is possible but challenging. It... requires a great level of concentration.”

Dean steps forward then and finds himself only arms reach from Castiel. He puts his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, making him turn to face him. 

“Cas,” he says, his voice soft. “Why’d you do that?”

Castiel struggles with himself before he looks into Dean’s eyes. “I felt like I was imposing on you. And...” he pauses, glancing back at Dean’s bed for a moment, “I thought that what I would find would be... regret.”

Dean frowns and licks his lips. _Regret? That's just, it doesn’t make sense._ “Cas, look at me,” Dean says, and the angel does so immediately as if he never had a problem looking into Dean’s emerald eyes.

“Why would I... the only thing I regret is... is letting you end our, eh, arrangement.” Dean hates that word, but he doesn’t really know how to describe what was that fragile thing they used to have.

“Come on,” Dean says and grabs Castiel by the hand. Castiel jerks away, but Dean’s grip is tight, and he doesn't let go. Dean leads him to his bed, sitting down on the side.

“Sit down,” Dean says, bobbing his head to gesture for Castiel to sit next to him.

Castiel stares for a while, glancing back from his hand, still in Dean’s grasps, to the spot on the bed next to Dean. Dean’s heart flutters at the angel’s confused expression. It’s classic Castiel, and Dean would never, ever change anything about him.

Castiel finally sits down, very carefully. He sits straight, taking up the smallest space possible on Dean’s bed. Dean doesn’t comment on it but draws his leg up to face Castiel better.

“I want you to unmute it, Cas,” he says, looking into Castiel’s eyes. “I want you to feel what I feel. And,” his voice breaks again, and he licks his lips, “and if you still want to leave after that, I won’t stop you.”

Castiel stares at him for a moment, unblinking. Then he ever so slowly lifts his hand and presses it gently against Dean’s chest, where his heart is. Dean watches as Castiel closes his eyes and tilts his head to that specific angle. That slight contemplating furrow appears on his brow, and Dean can't help but smile. 

It feels like an eternity for Dean, and he knows he should probably control his emotions, but he can’t help it. A wave of fear crosses over him, a doubt that even when Castiel looks into his soul, he’ll choose to leave him. Then his mind jumps back to those simpler times when he fell asleep, spooning Castiel. And his heart fills with joy at the prospect again. But it also fills with sorrow, that those times are gone. 

Only then, Castiel opens his eyes again, and another flash of fear strikes Dean. Because for a split of a second, Castiel’s expression is unreadable, like a marble statue. 

And then, the slightest ghost of a smile appears on Castiel’s lips, and Dean’s eyes are automatically drawn to them. Dean reaches his hand to cup Castiel’s cheek, feeling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. _Shit, I hope I'm not reading the situation wrong_ , he thinks.

“So, you staying?” he asks.

Castiel’s lips form into a bigger smile, as he says. “Yes, Dean. I am staying. For you.”

Dean’s heart jumps in joy, and he grins widely, not able to hide his happiness any longer. “I,” he chokes on his words. “I’d really like to kiss you, Cas.”

“I’d like that too,” Castiel says, still smiling.

Dean licks his lips again, suddenly feeling very nervous. He strokes Castiel’s cheek a few times with his thumb, as he leans in closer. The electricity in the air is almost reachable, as two men sit in a tight embrace, their lips only inches apart.

And then the door to Dean’s room bursts open. “DEAN, CAS IS NOT IN HIS ROOM AND—,” Sam stops mid-sentence as he sees his brother and the angel jump away from each other, startled by his intrusion. Sam freezes in the doorway, Castiel’s letter in his hand, as he’s processing the situation.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaims, grabbing his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“Oh,” Sam says, looking from Dean, sitting on the one side of the bed, to Castiel, standing at the end of the bed, his neck and ears crimson red. “I see you took my advice to heart and talked about it.” Sam grins.

“Get the hell out,” Dean exclaims, standing up and rushing to Sam.

“Wait,” Sam says, not letting his brother get away with it so quickly. “Does this mean you’re staying, Cas?”

Castiel shifts his weight slightly, fidgeting with the hem of his trenchcoat again. “I am Sam. And I am sorry about making you think I would ever leave.”

“Yeah, you better not. Or else I’ll be listening to Dean’s bitching for eternity.”

“Alright, get the hell out, bitch,” Dean says, pushing Sam away from the door.

“And where should I look for you next, guys?” Sam says, stiffing a laugh. “Just asking you know, will you be spending more time in Dean’s room, or yours, Ca—?”

Sam’s words are cut by Dean, slamming the door behind him.

Then Dean turns around, giving Castiel a sheepish look. “Well, I guess the mood is ruined, isn’t it?”

Castiel returns him a smile and shoves his hands into his pocket. He glances at the bed and then back at Dean.

“Would you like to... go to sleep? Like we used to?”

Dean feels the butterflies in his stomach, and he knows he should feel embarrassed, knowing that Castiel can sense that too. But somehow, Dean doesn't mind, that Castiel knows he makes Dean feel like a teenager again.

“Sure,” he says, making few steps towards the bed. He kicks off his shoes and strips down to his shirt and boxers. Castiel, in the meanwhile, takes off his layers too, staying only in his undershirt and boxers. 

Dean looks him up and down appreciatively, and a different feeling forms rooted deeper in his gut. He blushes slightly and averts his eyes, feeling weird and kind of exposed. _These are the feelings for another time_ , he decides. 

When he feels Castiel’s body weight shift the bed, he turns his gaze back to the angel. He stares at Castiel in his bed for a moment, his dark ruffled hair and sparkly blue eyes captivating him. How does he deserve someone like Castiel to love him back, he’ll never understand. But he’s not going to question it. Not tonight anyway.

Dean reaches his bedside lamp and turns off the light. The darkness covers them, but Dean feels safe. Because he knows, his angel is beside him.

“Cas?” Dean asks.

“What is it, Dean?” Dean can hear Castiel’s voice near him.

“Do you think,” Dean starts, trying to find the right words. “Could _you spoon me_ tonight?” he says, thankful it’s already dark because he feels heat coming up his face.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says, and then there’s a shifting of two bodies as they adjust their positions.

Castiel spoons Dean, throwing a protective arm around his hip. Dean immediately entwines their fingers together, pulling Castiel even closer. He closes his eyes and whispers into the night.

“Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel responds. 

Soon Dean falls into a restful sleep with a content smile on his face.


End file.
